


Interim

by Pink_Dalek



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_Dalek/pseuds/Pink_Dalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filling in the time between the pilot and "Girl".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interim

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on missing scenes, scenes from other characters' POV, stuff like that.

_"I'd see you right, of course, get you through your sergeant's exam. What you've got to ask is: where do you see yourself in twenty years?"_

_As horns started beeping indignantly behind them, Fred Thursday spoke again. "Morse?Endeavour!"_

_The younger man snapped out of his reverie and started the Jaguar moving forward._

Morse was quiet the rest of the way to the station. He was weighing his options. As devastating as the ending of the case had been, they'd figured out who'd really murdered Mary Tremlett and Miles Percival. If nothing else, Percival's parents didn't have to cope with their son being a murderer and a suicide, on top of his death. The case had been challenging and satisfying in a way that prior police work, the signal corps, and even university had never been. And Fred Thursday, an experienced and clever detective in his own right, was offering him a golden opportunity.

As he pulled into a space at the station car park, he turned to Thursday. "I'd like that, sir."

"All right then. I'll go back to the nick, tell Crisp what we're up to, and put in the transfer request. You get your things together and tell your governor what's up."

"Do you think Crisp will let you do it?"

"'Course he will. It's thanks to you his daughter's safe and he doesn't have to worry about being blackmailed any longer."

Morse gave one of his shy smiles. "That was more up to you."

"Still, you're the one pushed it far enough for us to figure out what Teddy Samuels was really up to."

As Morse got onto the train Fred gave him a smile. "We'll have you back here before you know it."

"I'm looking forward to it, sir." And to his surprise, he was.

Fred wasted no time. As soon as he returned to Cowley station, he went straight to Crisp's office. "I offered Morse a job here as my bagman, sir. I'm going to put in the transfer."

"I'll sign the paperwork for you. It's the least I can do for him-- and for you." Crisp's voice was heavy. "I'm putting in for early retirement."

"What? Why?"

"With what came out in the Tremlett case, I think it's for the best."

"But the negatives are destroyed."

"I know. And I burned the photos you gave me." Crisp sighed. "There's been too much wrong here, Fred. It was my job to stop it, but I was part of the problem. I need to step down. I made Lott turn in his resignation, and I've requested the others Samuels had in his pocket resign as well. At least I won't leave my mess behind for someone else to clean up."

Not long after Morse had arrived at the police barracks at Carshall Newtown and unpacked, a call came through from Fred. "I've started the transfer paperwork."

"I'll talk to my boss before he leaves today and let him know."

The chief of his CID was impressed. "It's a good chance for you, Morse. Make the best of it."

"I'll do my best, sir."

*****

Morse soon took a Monday off and returned to Oxford, the flat listings from the previous day's _Oxford Mail_ in hand. He had a small nest egg built up, enough to cover the deposit. He wouldn't be able to afford anything posh, but he would be happy with a bedsit, as long as it was his own. After the university, the army, and then the police barracks, he was tired of communal living. It had never been something he enjoyed, but the older he got the more he disliked it.

He found a place by mid-afternoon. It was small and rather dreary, but it would be his alone. He signed the paperwork and paid the deposit, then stopped by the police station. When he asked for Fred Thursday, he was surprised to be directed to the chief superintendent's office. "Inspector Thursday?"

Fred looked up. "Hello, Morse. If I'd known you were in town, I'd have taken you to the pub for lunch."

"I was looking at flats."

"Find anything?"

Morse nodded. "It's small, but I don't have to share with anyone. After so many years in barracks and dormitories, that's a luxury. And it's only a couple of blocks from a bus stop and the shops. Where's CS Crisp?"

"Crisp took early retirement. Did a bit of housecleaning before he left. Lott's gone, along with some others who were compromised. I'm filling in until they can bring on a new CS."

"Not tempted to go for a promotion?"

"Not at all. I like being a DI and bringing along young detectives. This is too much paperwork, too much desk time. The only time I get out of the nick is to have my sandwich on a bench outside. And I've been putting in such long hours, Win and the kids will forget what I look like. It's no way to live, Morse."

"When I start next Monday, I'll help any way I can, sir."

"Did you see in the paper where Lovell resigned from the government? Health reasons, was the official story."

"No, I didn't," Morse said. "Didn't make it into the papers at Carshall. Health reasons?" he added cynically.

"My guess is somebody above him in the pecking order got tired of cleaning up after him. It's not enough by far, but it's something."

"Barely a slap on the wrist."

"Justice isn't perfect, lad."

"I know. It still makes me angry."

*****

Morse didn't have much to pack. He shipped a couple of boxes of books ahead. On Saturday he packed up his clothes, linens, and records in his suitcase and another box, and made sure his phonograph was securely latched. DC McLeash went with him to the bus station, to help with his luggage and wish him luck.

He spent the rest of the weekend unpacking and settling in, and doing the shopping to stock his tiny kitchenette. In the evenings it was lovely to settle in with a glass of ale, a book, and his music, and savor having his own private space. It might be small, and he might be looking at cheese sandwiches or beans on toast for tea most days, but it felt like a definite step up. And he had a path ahead of him now, rather than feeling adrift.

Morse was at the station early on Monday. He checked with the duty sergeant first. "I'm DC Morse, the CID transfer."

"Oh, the gov'ner's new bagman. Got some papers for you to sign, and then you can sign out a car to pick him up."

Fred was waiting for him when he pulled up outside the house. "Morning, Morse."

"Morning, sir. Did you have a good weekend?"

"Win and the kids let me have a lie-in yesterday. Didn't crawl out of bed until half past nine. You?"

"I unpacked and settled in."

Morse spent the first part of the morning getting his bearings: meeting the other detectives, organizing his new desk and learning where everything was. That done, he reported to Fred's office to see what he could do to help. Morse wrote up reports, trotted around getting necessary signatures, filed, took messages, and everything else he could think of or was asked to do. Fred was surprised to look around his office at the end of the day and realize that with a capable assistant, the work was done and he would get home only a little late.

They slotted together even better over the next few days, Morse becoming Thursday's right-hand man. The only drawback was that being Fred's bagman while still only a DC caused some ruffled feathers in the office. The one most outspoken about it was Peter Jakes, a tall, dark-haired DS who'd had his eye on the job. He didn't waste a chance to make snide little digs at Morse, whether about his rank or his college background. Morse, used to being the odd man out, just kept doing his job and tried not to let the comments get to him. He didn't like it, but it was familiar.

At the end of the week Fred sent Morse on his first investigation, a robbery of a jewelry shop. Morse interviewed the owner, got a list of the missing pieces, and alerted every pawnshop in town.

He took a call on Saturday morning that a man had tried to pawn one of the pieces. The owner had cannily gone in the back, phoned a fellow pawnshop owner and the police, then told the thief he didn't handle such expensive pieces, but that the shop across town would help him, and could give him a better price. When the thief arrived at the second shop, Morse and a hidden team of constables were waiting for him. After the ring was confirmed as one of the missing pieces, they swooped in to arrest the man, and soon after tracked down the rest of the stolen jewelry. 

"Quite a coup for your first case," Fred told him back at the station. "Good job, Morse."

"Thank you, sir."

The next week brought more investigations, including an ongoing one into a string of meter robberies by a man pretending to work for the gas company. Also, word came down that a new CS had been appointed to Cowley station, a thirty-four-year veteran by the name of Bright who'd come up through the ranks from PC and had served in Bristol and the Midlands. 

Fred was relieved to know his time running the station was nearing an end. He was hearing good things about his temporary stint as CS, and it was gratifying that there was support for him if he ever chose to take the job permanently, but even with Morse's help he was exhausted, though he never let it show at work. In the evenings when he came home, Win, bless her, had his tea warming when he was late. And she didn't complain when he was snoring in his armchair not long after. Mostly she just worried about him.

"They've announced the new Chief Superintendent, pet. He starts on Monday," he told her that night.

"I'm glad. It'll be good to have you home again, and you'll be able to rest up a bit."

"Saturday's my last day as CS. What say we have a night out after that? Nice supper at the Orchid Room?"

Win smiled. "That would be lovely. I'll make an appointment to have my hair done that morning."

*****

Monday morning, Morse got an early call to investigate another gas meter robbery. He arrived at the station to find the new CS addressing an assembly of the entire Cowley CID staff. He tried to enter unobtrusively, but the little man in full uniform spotted him immediately, giving him a displeased look. Fred, flanking Bright, gave him a less-than-happy look as well.

Afterward, Fred empathized with his awkward position as a DC acting as bagman, and let him know he'd already put in a good word for him with a doubting Bright. Then Fred chewed him out over the state of his shirt. Morse swallowed a sigh.

It was going to be a long week.


End file.
